


Watson, What Have You Done?

by luckypixi



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Annoyed John, Gen, Humour, relaxed Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckypixi/pseuds/luckypixi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another missing scene. What happened between the wrecking of the ship-yard and the conversation in the prison yard the next morning between the doctor and the detective? No slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson, What Have You Done?

**Author's Note:**

> My second missing scene from the movie here... What happened just after the ship-yard incident until we see the Pair in the prison yard? This is my take!

Holmes groaned and pushed back against Watson, thereby standing up. He blinked a few times, clearing it of the fog that unconsciousness often brought with it, surveying the damage around him. The bow of the ship was still visible above the water, the rest of the vessel sunken and waterlogged. He turned back to Watson, who still hadn't stood up.

'Come along, Watson.' Smiled Holmes, hoisting his friend up by his arm. Watson turned to face him, still breathing heavily, eyes shocked. Holmes stared into his eyes for a moment, before bringing up his hand and clicking his fingers. 'Watson? Are you alright, old boy?'

Watson gestured with his hands at the damaged ship in front of them, a shocked smile creeping onto his face. 'I can't believe we just did that' he breathed. He turned to Holmes, as though seeing him for the first time. 'I thought you'd...I thought the ship had...' he stuttered, remembering the feeling of dread that had crept upon him when he saw Holmes disappear into the crevices of where the ship was being built upon. The feeling of sheer horror when he realised Holmes could be crushed to death and that he could do nothing about it.

Holmes nodded solemnly and patted the doctor on the arm. 'Best not to dwell on the past, my dear Watson.' He spoke softly, Watson turning away to look back at the still sinking ship. Holmes stared at him for a few moments, watching the wind blow up his hair as his faithful friend surveyed the damage.

'We'd best get back' said Holmes jovially, trying to lighten the mood. 'Your in-laws will be wondering what's become of you.'

Putting a hand on Watson's shoulder, he turned them both around, the wind pushing at their tailcoats.

Straight into the path of at least 20 policemen.

'I thought you'd have something to do with this, sir.'

Holmes sighed as Clarky spoke, the police constable looking around in shock at the wrecked shipyard.

'I seem to have something to do with everything that happens around here, don't I, Watson?' Holmes looked at Watson, who shook his head.

'Yes, Holmes.'

'What was is this time, Holmes? Escaped lunatic from the ale house down the road?' Holmes' brows furrowed as the voice of Inspector Lestrade floated through to him, the Inspector himself coming to a stop next to Clarky.

'Nothing to concern yourself with, Lestrade' said Holmes in a cheery voice. 'Just a little fisticuffs gone slightly wrong.'

Lestrade looked theatrically around the shipyard. 'You can say that again.'

Holmes smiled. 'Just a little fisticuffs gone- oof!'

Watson moved his foot away from where he'd just stopped on Holmes' shoe. 'He was being sarcastic, Holmes.'

Holmes flashed him his best smile. 'So was I' he winked.

Lestrade sighed and motioned for Clarky to give him something. The tell-tale jangling of handcuffs followed and Watson let out a groan. He had had less than fifteen minutes to get back to Mary; know it didn't look like he was going anywhere.

'Is this really necessary, Lestrade?' he asked as he turned around, feeling the cold metal snap against his wrists.

'Yes, doctor; this is a scene of utter devastation; there will have to be an investigation.'

'We were set upon' Holmes added helpfully as he was wrenched around and his wrists bound. He smiled broadly at his escortee, a young policeman. 'Thank you, Georgeson.'

'My pleasure, Mr. Holmes.'

Lestrade sighed again; Holmes was getting too friendly with his force, in his opinion.

'Take 'em away.'

-x-

The ride to Pentonville Prison was a bumpy one, one that Watson was far too familiar with. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the way Holmes was handling things; he was having an animated conversation with Clarky about the benefits of keeping a gun under ones pillow.

'What if you pull the trigger in your sleep, sir?' asked Clarky, smiling despite his inspector sitting next to him.

'Ah, well that is where you have to be clever...you don't actually load the gun; the sight of it should be enough deterrent for any night-thief.'

'Very good, sir.'

The carriage slowed to a stop and Watson blinked in the sunshine as he was pushed out the carriage, Holmes following diligently behind. He felt Holmes shuffle along behind him as they walked down the corridor and he slowed to a stop as they reached the large oak desk in the main lobby.

'Ooof!' Holmes reeled backwards slightly, scrunching his nose from where he'd just walked into the back of Watson.

Watson laughed despite the severity of his situation. 'How did you walk into me, Holmes? Weren't you looking where you were going?'

'No' offered Holmes. 'I was counting the cracks on the floor.'

Watson shook his head and said nothing else as they were booked in and handcuffs removed.

A large burly officer greeted them with a green-toothed smile at the gate of the prison, the early evening air chilling Holmes to the bone.

'Have a nice night.' Sneered the officer, pushing Holmes rather roughly before Watson, the detective barely stumbling as he turned to look at him.

'Thank you.' He said politely, ignoring the look he got in return.

Watson rolled his eyes and sauntered towards the nearest bench, rubbing his wrists. Holmes sniffed the air, noting the faint smell of excrement, sweat and just a hint of blood, before following him. He sighed as he sat next to his doctor, stretching his arms above his head.

The night seemed to set in quickly, bringing with it a cold wind. Holmes had spent the entire evening whispering to Watson the reason why the rest of their prisons fellows were incarcerated. Watson had laughed at a few outlandish claims (" See him? Well, he's in here because he stole his bosses' left shoe, made it into a wallet and sold it back to him; Lestrade got him for theft and fraud.")

Soon though, night had well and truly set in, the darkness all encompassing in the yard. The other prisoners shuffled into their corners, many not sleeping, just keeping alert.

Watson felt rather than saw Holmes' head begin to droop, the detective letting out small snores every now and again. Watson smiled slightly, despite himself; he should be having dinner with Mary now, not in a prison yard with Holmes. But he softened slightly when Holmes' forehead touched his shoulder lightly. He shuffled a bit closer to his detective so he could fully rest his head on his shoulder. Trust Holmes to fall asleep at a time like this. But then, he could always relax at inopportune times, in any situation where he didn't consider there was a threat. Prison just happened to be one of those places.

Watson let out a long sigh, looked up at the full moon above him.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
